


Bite Hard and Bite Sweet

by almaasi



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: Accidental Kissing, Bickering, Biting, Cardassian Anatomy, Cardassian flirting, Claiming Bites, Claustrophobia, Fighting for Dominance, First Kiss, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Illustrated, M/M, Mating Bites, Panic Attacks, Romance, Smut, Sub Elim Garak
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-23
Updated: 2019-11-23
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:08:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 10,864
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21528070
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi/pseuds/almaasi
Summary: Julian Bashir can’t resist nibbling on Garak’s secret stash of Delavian chocolates, can’t wait to sink his teeth into a good argument about it, and relishes the opportunity to chew Garak out for picking DS9’s access conduits to hide those same chocolates. After all this terribly explicit Cardassian-style flirting, Garak is very interested to find out what ELSE Julian is willing to bite. (There’s a good chance it could be him.)
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 47
Kudos: 350





	1. Maybe Just One Bite

**Author's Note:**

> Beta’d by [anupalya](https://anupalya.tumblr.com/), [ cersei-the-truth-bombardier](https://cersei-the-truth-bombardier.tumblr.com/) and [perphesone](https://perphesone.tumblr.com/)!

  
Garak was hiding something.

No, really! He shoved something under his tailor’s table the moment Julian showed up at the shop door, then called, “Ah, hello, doctor!”

Julian pretended not to notice. “Hello, Garak,” he said casually, strutting up to the desk and leaning one elbow on it. “Is this a good time?”

“A good time for what, exactly? If you’re about to tell me my quarters are currently being consumed in a blazing inferno or overrun by pregnant voles... well, I don’t think there’s ever a good time for that.”

Julian grinned. “No, no. Just...” his curious eyes lowered to the edge of the desk, wondering what had been sequestered into the shelves below, “stopped by for a little conversation.”

“Always a pleasure, my dear friend.” Garak turned away from the desk to whisk up a roll of fabric, something pink and flowy. “Although if you’ll forgive me, I have yet another party dress to prepare for our friend Jadzia Dax, and—” he slid out behind the desk, carrying the fabric over to a nearby dressform, “I may be slightly distracted.”

“Oh, not to worry,” Julian said, facing Garak, both elbows hooked up on the desk now. “You carry on. I’ll watch. You are _sensational_ entertainment.”

“My-my. If I’d know this was what your choice of entertainment had come to, I might have picked a more engaging novel to share with you last we spoke. Something longer, perhaps.”

“Oh, the two thousand pages of utter garbage you gave me are plenty engaging,” Julian said derisively, making Garak smile. “Sometimes I think you pick new titles just to _torture_ me.”

“Old habits die hard, as they say,” Garak agreed, with a devilish twinkle in his eye, which Julian gleefully mirrored. “But,” Garak admitted, “oh, _how_ the mighty have fallen.” He gave Julian’s lanky body a despairing, yet appreciative look. “If I’d forseen what _my_ choice of entertainment would come to these days—”

“You’d have drunk a lot more kanar,” Julian murmured.

Garak chuckled. “Doubtless you’re right.” He glanced around, looking for something. “Those pins! Always getting away from me. One moment, do excuse me.” He bustled off, patting his breast pockets and then heading behind a curtain to find his sewing kit.

Julian calculated he had nine-point-seven seconds until Garak returned, so used three of them to launch himself over the desk and crouch behind it, eyes scouring the thin top shelf. His hand snatched up a likely object, silver wrapping around a black box.

“Delavian chocolates!” Julian whispered in surprise. He tingled with anticipation, mouth already watering.

He huffed, put the box where he’d found it, and vaulted back to the other side of the desk, tugging his uniform straight and leaning casually again, just in time for Garak to be completely oblivious.

Except he wasn’t completely oblivious. Julian knew him well enough that he’d only gone to ‘get his pins’ to give Julian the opportunity to snoop. He was a master manipulator, and this was their favourite game, the one they’d been playing for years. Obviously they’d studied the flirting customs of each other’s species and cultures, and Garak was as conscious of the fact that chocolates could be a romantic gift for Julian, just as Julian was cognizant of how starting and perpetuating an argument was a primary Cardassian courting tactic. They didn’t talk about it, but that was half the fun. Garak wanted to be found out, just as Julian wanted to find him out.

“Yooou wouldn’t happen to want to join me for an afternoon snack, would you, dear tailor?” Julian asked, leadingly. “It’s almost seventeen-hundred hours, I could use a pick-me-up before my break ends.”

“Ah, not today, I’m afraid, I do have a lot to be getting on with,” Garak said, draping fabric over the dressform and poking it with pins. “But please, don’t let me stop you if you’re in need. A good doctor can’t afford to be sluggish.”

“No, quite right,” Julian agreed. He slouched on the desk, looking hopefully at his Cardassian friend. “You know what I could go for? Some dessert. Something sweet... not too sweet, mind you, but... mm, just enough of a morsel to tide me over until dinner.”

“Indeed.”

Julian felt a pang of desperation. He really wanted a chocolate, dammit. He knew where they were hidden. Garak knew where they were hidden. Julian knew Garak knew he knew where they were hidden. Delavian chocolates were the absolute best in the Alpha Quadrant, and madly irresistible, so making Julian practically beg and giving away nothing was verging on cruel. “Don’t suppose you have any snacks around here, do you?”

“There is a Replimat only a short walk away, my dear doctor.”

“Yes, but,” Julian tapped his fingers, “wouldn’t want to deprive myself of your delightful company, not for a moment.”

Garak shot him a bland look. “Is that so.”

“Oh, yes.” Julian gave a hard stare back. _Why aren’t you offering me your chocolates, you beautiful, selfish prick?_ “Can’t think of anything more satisfying than standing around here, _not_ eating.”

Garak sighed and stabbed a pin too low. “Doctor, if you’re trying to insinuate that I’d be better off spending _this_ evening engaged in a heated repartee with you, you would be sorely mistaken. You may know Lieutenant Dax as an agreeable sort, but when it comes to her parties and the dresses and the _accessories_ , I have to tell you, she’s very particular.”

“I’m sure,” Julian said, half his mind shaped around a perfect round ball of melty, gooey, chewy bliss, every molecule of his body aching to plop a chocolate on his tongue and feel it sink down in his heat, feel it melt away to that perfect _squish_ that sent tingles through his teeth and filled his whole body with brightness.

He watched Garak work for another frustrating minute – but then – at last! – Garak went to the back of the shop for some ribbon. And, playing the game, Julian hopped back over the desk and knelt at the altar of chocolate, hand on the box, fingers prying the packaging open...

No...

No, this was bad. This was wrong. He shouldn’t...

It was just _chocolate_ , he shouldn’t be stealing chocolate... Garak was making him wait! Julian was supposed to cajole, seduce, and entrap Garak into giving up the prize, so stealing it outright was an act of utter weakness. Garak had left him alone just to see if he could make it.

Pah, of course he could make it. He wasn’t this weak.

But... _Delavian_ chocolate...

With a sigh of longing and a tilted head, Julian slowly slid the box back where he’d found it.

But—!

Oh, just one! Just _one_ , surely—

With a purr of relief and joy he plucked one of the four round balls up with his fingertips and placed it in his mouth, eyes shut, moaning in pleasure as he sank down, hands weak, shoulders slumping.

He felt the treat melt on his tongue and tickle at his tastebuds, so smooth, so silky, such an elegant balance of sweetness and flow.

The chewy bit in the middle almost made him sob in ecstasy, it had been too long since he’d felt that plump _push_ against his teeth, resistance but no break, slowlyslowlyslowly shrinking and rolling and layering his tongue with a delicate, cool-warm-hot gel of incomparable flavour. Was it minty, was it spicy, was it floral? He’d never known, and remained ignorant.

He sighed in delight, fingertips sliding the slightly-less-full box back to its hiding place, as guilt and satisfaction did a little waltz in his belly. His chest was tight and his smile was wide, and oh—

Garak was peering down at him, his shadow cast over Julian’s petrified form.

“Of all the things I expected you to be, my dear,” Garak said coolly, “a thief was never one of them.”

Julian popped up and held up both hands, innocently. “I-I-I wasn’t. I didn’t.”

Garak tapped a finger beside his own lips. “The evidence says otherwise, doctor.”

Julian hastily scrubbed his lips with the back of his hand, but was dismayed _not_ to see a brown smudge on his slightly lighter brown skin: Garak had played him, and he’d given himself away.

“Yes, well,” Julian said, squaring his shoulders and giving Garak a painfully annoyed look, “I am _terribly_ sorry. Maybe if you’d _offered_ perhaps I wouldn’t have been forced to take such extreme measures.”

“Oh-ho!” Garak cried, fire-eyed, his work forgotten. “So it’s my fault you were driven to theft, is it? Haven’t I treated you well enough? Not enough hours spent devoted to your company, not enough gifts lavished upon your oh-so-deserving soul?”

Julian tutted. “Don’t play that card, Garak. Of course you have. You really have, Garak, I’m not— It’s just—! Delavian _chocolates_ , Garak, you know as well as I do there’s no point stashing them away.”

“Oh, how I know,” Garak purred. “Seductive little things, aren’t they?”

“Exactly,” Julian said, sidling out from behind the desk, maintaining his annoyance so Garak wouldn’t see him cower back with shame. Garak was moments away from gloating; the devious sparkle had already brightened his blue eyes. Julian wasn’t one to admit when he’d lost one of their squabbles, but Garak enjoyed seeing him try to argue his way out of defeat just as much as he enjoyed winning the same argument. And if they got into an argument now, without a table between them as a barrier, Julian would end up kissing him, and he’d been steadfastly trying _not_ to do that every lunchtime for far too many months... years. He’d come in here for a chat and was leaving with a hot face and tight pants and that was Not The Plan.

“Anyway,” Julian said, pretending not to be flustered, “It’s clear I’m in your way, so I – I’ll be going, then.”

“So soon, doctor?” Garak crooned.

“Yes,” Julian answered. He hesitated, then stormed off out of the tailor’s shop.

Plagued with irritation at himself – stealing chocolate! how _could_ he? why didn’t he resist? what had _possessed him_? – Julian got as far as the lower entrance of Quark’s bar before he felt a presence behind him, and he turned to see Garak striding up to him, now at his side.

They didn’t make eye contact, but carried on walking together, Garak chiding, “Don’t think you can run away from me so easily, dear doctor. You really are a weak-willed individual. I should have known not to leave you alone with something that could bring even a lesser man to his knees.”

So the argument travelled. No escaping it, now.

“You make it sound like a failing on your part,” Julian responded with a firm look, bypassing Quark (and his exclamation that the bar was not a byway and if they wanted to use the stairs then they had to buy something first). “ _You_ were the weak one. Trusting me. Trusting me around something you wanted to protect. And you _knew_ I saw the box, you know my strengths – and weaknesses – so you know that even a split-second of suspicious movement was enough to pique my curiosity.”

“Perhaps I did,” Garak snapped, pacing up the spiral staircase behind Julian. “But perhaps, more so, I was testing you to find out whether any so-called ‘trust’ of mine was misplaced after all. You have proven me correct, it seems.”

“Or I proved you wrong,” Julian argued, rushing from the top of the first staircase, past dimly-lit tables and to the bottom of the second spiral, seeing Quark muttering to himself down below. “Proving I can’t be trusted proves you were wrong to trust me in the first place, thus proving you are the weaker one, here.”

“Ha!” Garak followed Julian with a wild-eyed, excitable look on his face. “I suppose now you’ll be telling me I’m a glutton, too, and a selfish one at that, keeping such rare delicacies for myself and not thinking to share them with someone I ought to count as a close friend, even if that friend is not to be trusted.”

“You are, rather,” Julian huffed, leaving Quark’s by the topmost entrance and turning immediately from one corridor to another, a warm blue-silver one where the hum of a rotator made the walls purr. They strutted down the hall together, shoulder to shoulder, searing with heat and passion that wasn’t quite anger or guilt anymore, but something feisty and electric. “You _know_ Delavian chocolates are my favourite, Garak.”

“Just as you know they’re mine.”

“So what?”

“And so, even with that high-and-mighty brain of yours, dear doctor, you’re still too thickheaded to have noticed the obvious.”

Julain snarled, head rolling, “And what is _that_ , dare I ask?”

Garak took Julian by the shoulder, wrenching him to a halt, facing each other. “That I was strong enough to resist temptation, whereas you crumbled beneath your wanton – Human – _urges_ , not out of hunger but out of _lust_ , out of _greed_ —”

Julian shoved Garak by both shoulders, slamming him against the other metal side of the corridor. “And so what? I was weak, Garak. We all have our weak moments. You have a dress to make but you’re here, why, because you can’t _resist_ a fight, can you? Not with me.”

Garak stepped into Julian’s breathing space again. “You’re quite right, I can’t.” His eyes fell to Julian’s lips. “You’d lap up a truth from the lips of a liar just as you would another chocolate, my dear.”

Julian was stung with a thrill. “What truth?”

“That the chocolates were for you.” Garak gave him a soft look. “And you were too impatient to wait until I gave them to you tomorrow.”

Julian kissed him. Hands on those ridged cheeks, heads turned— Julian hummed a desperate note, eyes shut. Mouth open. Sighing, pushing, feeling the _thump_ in his hips as Garak’s back met the wall and was pressed there.

Julian licked the seam of Garak’s parted lips, giving him a teasing taste of the galaxy’s most extraordinary sweetness... and of the chocolate he’d eaten.

Shivery, hot breaths caught between their mouths as Julian broke away, dazed, rushing with exhilaration.

Garak held Julian’s waist, and his eyes, looking like he’d been struck by lightning. Dark-eyed now, he was blushing a faint lilac, the ridges on his neck bruising and firming under Julian’s thumbs.

Julian wrenched back, aghast and breathless. “Oh my _God_.”

Garak stepped off the wall, tugging his tunic down. “Well!” he said, as if he hadn’t been caught completely unawares. He looked furious, but covered it with a bright and cheerful, “That _was_ quite the treat. Maybe I won’t need to sneak one of those chocolates after all.”

“Garak...” Julian reached apologetically for his friend. “Oh, I didn’t... Believe me, I didn’t mean to—” He sagged, hopeless and upset. “I’m so sorry. About the chocolate. And about—”

His breath caught.

“I’m sorry.”

And he ran away, like the shamefaced, impulsive fool that he was.


	2. A Few Biting Remarks

Garak needed a better hiding place for these damn chocolates. He’d procured a whole caseful, and while a caseful was only the size of three padds stacked atop each other, there was enough chocolate in there to send Garak into a week-long pleasure coma if he ate them all at once.

There was a distinct possibility that, while aware that he went a little crazy over good chocolate, hoisting the box under an arm and crawling into the nearest Cardassian-style Jeffries tube looking for a place to hide the box was maybe a tad too crazy.

But he really shouldn’t eat the chocolate. Seeking an endorphin high was one thing, given his implant was rendered well and truly non-operational, but replacing one addiction with another was a fate he was determined to avoid. Especially because every time he got a bit pudgier, he had to remake his entire wardrobe, and as much as he enjoyed that endeavour, it took tailoring time away from real, paying customers. All those meals at Quark’s with Julian didn’t exactly come cheap.

He grunted, scuffing his knees on the rough, grippy flooring as he bumbled along, scowling and muttering obscenities to himself. Serve himself right for blowing a month’s worth of savings on edible gifts for the doctor. Serve himself right for buying the _one_ physical item that was equally pleasurable to them both – besides, say, a warm bed or a good book. Serve himself right for fantasising one too many times about how they’d enjoy the treats together, melting the chocolate between their lips... or between something else...

“Yow—!” Garak heard ringing metal an entire second after his head collided with a hot pipe. “Hnhhk.”

Rubbing his head, he took a deep, assuring breath, then kept on crawling, past access panels and yellow warning signs and glowing white strips behind latticed metal. His own knee movements echoed up and down the tunnel, ricocheting back with dark, unhappy clatters.

“Oh, yes,” Garak uttered, as he stepped out into one of those blasted connection bays where the ladder went up too far to see and the tunnels spread out in four other directions. “Let’s go hide them somewhere I’ll never want to retrieve them.” He picked a tunnel and breathed deeply and slowly so as not to notice the closed-in walls and the small crawlspace stretched out before him, glowing an eerie green. “Only problem is, I have to get to the place first. Why not just hijack a transporter beam, Garak? Hurl the things into space! Out an airlock! Or even simpler, just have them sent to dear Julian’s room, let him indulge, let him... oh, enjoy a night of perfect bliss... even if it is without you...”

Garak slowed his crawl, looking at the box of chocolates. It was tied up with a ribbon, a ribbon he’d untied to sneak out one of the smaller boxes, thinking it wouldn’t matter too much if he could have _one_...

Julian had hardly stolen anything yesterday, not really. He’d stolen a chocolate from inside a box which Garak had stolen from this bigger box which was intended for Julian in the end, anyway, so they were equally guilty.

And equally satisfied, Garak hoped, but he knew it wasn’t true.

He was as infuriated by the kiss as Julian had been embarrassed by it, and, really, _that_ was why Garak wanted to rid himself of this nasty reminder of his feelings. They’d gone too far. He wanted nothing more than to be _nice_ and _sweet_ and _kind_ to that ridiculous man and his ridiculously long legs and ridiculous puppy eyes, and there was no fate Garak could imagine for himself that was feebler than the idea that he’d given up his former greatness just to dote on a happy-go-lucky tennis enthusiast with a brain like a coffee-fuelled computer.

The worst part was that Julian Bashir had taken the dominant role during their first kiss and Garak couldn’t think of a single sensible thing to do to remedy the issue. So he did a less sensible thing: took his chocolate box and got lost in his own personal hell.

Garak had stopped crawling. He couldn’t breathe.

He fell to lie on his back, gasping, hands on his too-tight chest, staring at a giant metal maze above him and feeling lights flutter hot on the sides of his cheeks. The world was small and he was crushed in the middle of it. Too big for the space. A Terran goldfish squashed into a matchbox. Blubbing for breath, unable to find it.

“Hhhh,” Garak whispered.

He tried relaxing, closing his eyes, but all he saw was Julian’s scared eyes as he fell back from their kiss, shocked at what he’d done, shocked that Garak had manipulated him into _doing_ that, and Garak was guilty-guilty-guilty of that and a thousand other things, not only that but he’d _enjoyed it_ , he’d liked being pushed, and kissed, and stolen from, because he’d been putting himself out in plain sight with the hope someday Julian would _take_ – and he loved seeing Julian’s darker side, the beast he kept hidden behind a sweet and buoyant smile. He was a ferociously kind man, every part Garak’s foil. But Garak had let him take the lead. Why? Out of care? Consideration for the Human’s idea of a balanced relationship? Or purely for the pleasure of it, the pleasure of being submissive? There was no coming back from that. Not for a Cardassian.

He couldn’t breathe.

He stretched out his neck, clawing at his tunic collar. “Ahh— Doct...”

What would Bashir say? _Breathe._ He’d tell him to relax. _It’s okay. I’m here._

But he wasn’t here.

“Cuh— C’mput...”

_Breathe. In. Out. Slowly. That’s it. I’ve got you, Garak. You’ll be alright._

“Computer—” Garak flushed with relief as he heard the computer _blee-bleep_ somewhere in the tunnel wall. “Em— ‘Mergency medical. D’ctor Bash— Bashir. Garak – to – Bashir.”

Another _bleep_.

“ _Garak?_ ” came a familiar voice. Garak breathed more easily, hearing him. “ _Garak, did you— Are you alright? You sound funny._ ”

“Need. Conduit. Help. Hh...”

“ _Gar— Computer, locate Garak._ ”

Through Bashir’s combadge, routed through the tunnel speakers, Garak heard “ _Tailor Garak is in conduit three-seven-A, section alpha._ ”

“ _Emergency medical transport, Bashir to access tunnel three-seven. Engerise!_ ”

Garak heard the whirr of a transporter beam, echoing as the sound came through the tunnel as well, some distance from his feet. He gulped, and clawed helplessly at his collar, feeling strangled and blind and dizzy.

He felt the vibration as Bashir came crawling towards him, bony knees bumping on the flooring.

“Garak!” he called. Oh, just the sound of his voice made everything easier. “Garak...”

Warmth pushed against Garak’s shoes, a hand on his thigh, a medical scanner blibbering over his chest and face. Garak could see just enough to recognise Bashir’s most concerned look, lips parted, worried, shiny eyes...

“Panic attack,” Bashir said in relief, putting the scanner away and lying down on his elbows and hips, hand on Garak’s collar, loosening it for him. “Garak, breathe for me. Listen? Deep breath in.”

Garak held his eyes and breathed in, shaking all the way.

“Theeere,” Bashir’s smile could’ve lit up the Alpha Quadrant for a day. “Easy does it. Out we go. Whooo.”

He undid Garak’s tunic to halfway down his chest, fingering the sides apart to show the looser undershirt, palm checking his heartbeat.

“In?”

Garak breathed in, relaxing a little as Bashir stroked his hair back a few times.

“Out.”

Garak shut his eyes, feeling the heat of the other man against his thigh and chest and hand... Hand? Bashir had snuck a palm against Garak’s, and held on.

“Okay.” Bashir squeezed his hand. “Keep breathing. We’re going to crawl out. Can you move?”

Garak gulped, then nodded.

“Up on your hands and knees, then.”

Garak did as he was told, hating and loving that he obeyed without question. His tunic gaped open, his chest lighter, but his vision was out of sorts, and just the sight of the tube made him fold in on himself, wailing—

“Sh-sh-sh, it’s alright,” Bashir eased, hand on the back of Garak’s neck. “Eyes closed. You’re in a field. A field on Cardassia. Burnt yellow sky, rolling clouds. Air... simmering around you. You... you can feel the heat in the dirt, do you feel it? Rough dirt. Hands in the dirt.”

Garak felt it. “Yes.”

“Good. Yellow fields, wafting in the hot breeze. We’re going to crawl through. You first.”

Garak started to crawl. He knew it was flooring under his hands and knees, and the fresh coolness made him jolt, but Bashir had a hand on his lower back, and he moved onwards, forcing himself to see fields. Lizards scuttled away from his fingertips. Chirping insects startled as he parted the grass. He was a growling, slinking g’bari cat stalking after his prey.

But the prey came up behind him, assuring him, “That’s it, Garak. You’re doing so well. You’re being very brave.”

“Doctor,” Garak said, quite firmly, “I don’t need to be coddled.”

He heard a faint chuckle. “Oh, don’t you? Getting lost in tunnels I’ll bet you know like the back of your hand. Panicking at the slightest sign of trouble.”

Ah, _that_ was more like it. It was so much easier to bicker.

“As if you’re any better,” Garak retorted, feeling his way over a log and to more grass on the other side. “Dropping everything just because I said your name.”

“Do you mean to say it’s hubris?” Julian asked, a smile in his voice. “That I came instead of sending someone else? Only I can save you, is _that_ it?”

“Perhaps you were correct in this case,” Garak admitted, still trembling. “Nobody else could do what you do.”

“Careful, Garak, that was dangerously akin to a compliment.”

“Perhaps it was, doctor,” Garak said, “but only those afflicted with such hubris would have noticed.”

“Hard not to notice,” Julian said. “And frankly I’d rather notice _that_ than your bobbing backside over here.”

Garak chortled. “Why, doctor, is my backside not handsome enough for you? Not round, not petite, not firm enough to suit your preferences?”

“Oh, I wouldn’t say that,” Julian said roughly. “Just very distracting, is all.”

“Careful,” Garak warned. “That sounded dangerously akin to a compliment.”

Oh, Julian definitely smiled. “Perhaps it was.”

Garak was helped to his feet, trembling a little in Bashir’s affirming grip, dirty hands enjoined, while Garak’s eyes remained clamped tight shut.

“Do you want to beam out?” Julian asked. “Or keep—”

“Keep crawling,” Garak answered. “If I appeared in the Infirmary half-undressed and dishevelled like this I’d never hear the end of it.”

“None of the nurses judge people on that sort of thing, Garak,” Julian said, helping Garak into another tunnel. “It’s only your own pride you’re worried about.”

“Yes, and I’d like to hold onto whatever dignity I have left, thank you.”

“How’s that field looking?”

“More pleasant by the minute, doctor.”

They crawled and bumped and ambled along to whichever exit Bashir had chosen, whereupon they sat up and apart, Garak’s back to the conduit wall (a tree), feeling the brush of heat as Julian squirmed past, breathing softly, apologetically, a hand on Garak’s arm, then his knee. Garak inhaled the doctor’s half-faded cologne and smiled to himself.

“Here we go,” Bashir said, unlocking the tunnel’s exit panel, fumbling to put the panel down outside. “You ready?”

Garak felt the chill of hallway air, and didn’t like it. But he moved into his friend’s guiding touch, scooting closer... “Too bad this journey was so short, my dear doctor. I’m certain that under more comfortable circumstances we could’ve made ourselves at home here for hours, enjoying each other’s most _intimate_ company.”

“Oh...?” Julian sounded amused – but then came a breath of realisation: yesterday’s kiss hadn’t been unwelcome. “Oh. Y-Yes... maybe we could have. Mmmh...” He gulped loudly. “Maybe we... still can. Ah— At least for a minute.”

Garak stopped moving. He felt breath on his lips, heat on his forehead. He parted his lashes with a few uncertain blinks and saw Julian just a kiss away, eyes trained on Garak’s. Solemn was the look he offered, but Garak saw hope and longing, too.

It wasn’t so scary to be in a small space, Garak supposed, when Julian made the whole world so much bigger.

Garak took Julian by the back of his neck, and sank in with a sigh to kiss him. Julian’s eyes were shut by the time their lips met.

Oh, soft.

Oh, _tender_.

Garak was pushed back to lie down by a hand on his chest, held down by a weight. Julian breathed against him, a sweet little moan of delight purling up over his tongue, twisting behind Garak’s teeth as they curled together. Julian came to be straddling Garak’s waist in a way that felt more naturally comfortable than obscene; he was close and curious; Garak’s hands took his lower back...

“Oh,” Julian cooed, squirming, biting his lip. “Hmm.” His eyes were closed, his cheeks were flushed. He looked relaxed and happy, if also somehow worried and shy. His eyes were such a perfect hazel as he peeked out, peeked down, looking into Garak’s astonished stare.

Julian kissed him again, stroking Garak’s aural ridge, thumb riding the wave of it up, up. Garak sobbed, lost in the touch, in the gorgeous heat of the man over him.

Julian’s face dipped low to Garak’s neck, hot breath on exposed ridges – and Garak’s head surged back, chin up, crying out in pleasure. He was growing _thick_ under those touches, Julian surely felt the firmness under his lips as he began to suck. The bloodrush in Garak’s shoulders was driving him to gasp, to writhe at the sheer luxury of this kind of stimulation. He never knew Bashir’s lips were so soft, nor his mouth so eager. The doctor plucked and nipped at the ridges and quickly came to the conclusion that they were a massive erogenous zone.

“Erectile tissue,” Julian uttered, apparently to himself.

“Auhh,” Garak pleaded, half-blind. “Oh, my dear, if you wouldn’t mind...?”

Julian grinned down at him. “Stop or keep going?”

Garak panted, unsure. “Let— Let me turn over.”

Confused, yet intrigued, Julian pulled back, jostling like he expecting to be rolled over too – but Garak rolled alone and lay on his front, weight on his forearms and thighs, head down, waiting to be mounted. Garak whimpered, forehead on his fists, ashamed beyond belief, but feeling the swirling, urgent heat in his belly and the throb in his groin that told him he _did_ want this, it wasn’t a mistake... This was how it was meant to be...

But after three, four, five – then seven seconds passed, Garak realised with an ice-cold rush that Julian didn’t know what to do. He didn’t know enough about Cardassian mating.

And Garak couldn’t bear to tell him.

So he thrust himself away, scrabbling for the exit to the tube, flustered and red-hot with humiliation he’d only brought upon himself. His shoes touched down to proper carpet, a jarring change after half an hour in the tubes. He did up his clothes, back turned to the conduit as Julian unfolded himself from the tiny space, battered chocolate box in hand.

They caught sight of each other, and Julian, poor Julian, he took a breath to ask questions or apologise or maybe request a kiss, but Garak turned away, uttered the softest, bitterest “Thank you,” and “Enjoy your chocolates,” then took his leave.


	3. Warning: May Bite When Excited

“Begin personal log, stardate...” Julian breathed twice. “Stardate whatever-the-date-is.” He leaned forward, elbows on his knees, fingers steeped before his lips. His eyes were trained on the open box of Delavian chocolates before him.

“There’s something about... urges,” Julian said. “And resisting them. I’m _good_ at that. I’ve had to be. I didn’t hide my past for so many years by giving in to every opportunity I had to reveal how _clever_ I was. It’s a practised action, repression. Resistance of one’s desires, conscious or unconscious. And I...” Julian’s fingers reached for a chocolate, then curled and pulled back. “I must be out of practise.”

He got up and began to pace, sleeves rolled up on his nearly-transparent purple turtleneck sweater, hands locked behind his back. He walked up and down the length of his quarters a few times, then said, “I want to _eat_ them _all_.” He sat down heavily, giving the treats and their undressed ribbon a baleful look. “And what does that say about me? I want to _lose_ myself in oral _ecstasy_.” With a massive eye-roll, the threw his torso against the couch back, chin high, eyes on the grid ceiling. “And quite frankly,” he said, with a twitch of a shoulder, arms out long on the backrest, “I don’t think it’s about the chocolates at all.”

He jerked forward and slapped the lid back on the chocolate box, strangling it with the ribbon, but giving up when he thought of Garak’s benign little chuckle of amusement, blue eyes teasing Julian but saying nothing outright.

“I’ve been digging into Cardassian literature,” Julian went on, tossing one long leg over the other, bare foot bobbing about in midair. “But, _well_ , I’m hardly going to—”

The door bleeped.

Julian ignored it, “Hardly going to find anything about sexual mating rituals in novels about political subterfuge. It was hard enough figuring out the _courting_ rituals. And even if there was anything—”

The door bleeped again.

Julian scuffed through his hair. “It’s all just so damn _metaphorical_.”

The door was really very insistent. Julian sighed and glanced up. “Computer, end personal log.” He stood up and sighed. “Enter.”

“Ah, good _evening_ , doctor,” Garak said brightly, bouncing on his heels, looking smug. “My, and what an interesting piece you’re wearing.” He swung a hand to touch it, fingers on fabric, points of heat pressing to Julian’s slim bicep. “Betazoid silk, is it?”

Julian drew a small breath. “You’re the expert, you tell me. I just thought it was pretty.”

Garak met his eyes, a twinkle of mischief and fondness passing between them. “Oh, it is.”

 _Betazoid silk, or pretty? Or both? I caught that, you sly devil._ Julian smiled, chin to his sternum, cocking his head to invite Garak in. Garak took a step in, then padded closer to the coffee table in front of the couch.

“Any left?” Garak asked, eyes on the chocolate box.

“You didn’t come by just to steal back the chocolates, did you?”

“I think you’ll find that’s exactly why I came by,” Garak said, his double-thick golden tunic rumpling around the middle as he sat down right where Julian had been sitting. “They are much too good to resist.” He undid the tangled ribbon with a tailor’s dexterity and pried up the lid, taking a peek at the goods.

Garak looked confused. “Doctor, you haven’t eaten a single one.”

Julian sat beside him, smiling and staring at him. “You came by to see how many I’d eaten, didn’t you?”

“Yes, but I certainly didn’t expect this.” Garak’s eyes were wide and dismayed, his shoulders working uncomfortably as he sank back in the couch, hands on his lap. “Gone off the taste, have you?”

Julian leaned forward, his body angled towards his Cardassian friend. “No,” he said slowly, “but I am wondering whether I can... _afford_... to indulge... in your very generous gift.”

Garak looked at him. They had an understanding. Julian was right: this wasn’t about chocolate.

“What do you imagine it might cost you?” Garak asked. “If you did indulge.”

Julian’s eyes settled on Garak’s peachy-grey lips. He took a deep breath in, held it, then let it go, humming with longing. He blinked and turned his eyes low, still smiling faintly. “The problem is less about what I’d lose,” he assured Garak. “More about gaining something I wouldn’t have the foggiest idea what to do with.”

“Ah.” Garak sat up straighter. “Quite the puzzle.”

Julian figured as much: Garak wasn’t going to explain a damn thing about what he’d been doing in the conduit, what he’d been waiting for, what he _wanted_ from Julian. It was going to be Julian’s puzzle to solve, even if the lack of a solution forced Garak to wait longer for him than he already had.

Julian gulped, sitting forward again, hands held loosely between his knees.

After a few moments, he asked, “Do you want some? Some— Um, some chocolate, I mean.”

Garak smiled. “Please.”

Julian picked up the box and offered it, enjoying how Garak let his fingers stray over the compartments for a bit before giving a decided, “Aha,” and prying out one ball no less identical to the others.

Julian took one too, offered it with a “Cheers,” and they bumped their melty balls together before sucking them into their mouths with twin drones of delight.

Garak purred and lay back, the crook of his neck against the couch’s backrest, while Julian flopped his head forward, breathing deeply, still sucking his thumb clean.

They remained in that gorgeous, heightened state of bliss, buzzing and tingling and lost to the world, until the chewy centres had melted away and Julian was left licking traces out from between his teeth.

Garak was still busy enjoying his morsel, eyes closed, practically meditating.

Julian watched him, letting himself feel as affectionate as he dared. It was only when Garak’s eyes peeked open and his gaze moved softly to Julian’s that Julian smiled, and shuffled close enough that their thighs touched.

“Do you mind if I—” Julian raised a hand and cupped Garak’s ridged chin between his thumb and fingers. Garak’s breath caught, their eyes locked, Garak’s lips parting to show the tip of his slick red tongue, hovering in his mouth. Julian tilted his head at him, offering a smile, wanting to see what Garak would do.

Garak looked at Julian’s lips, and exhaled. “My dear,” he said.

“Yes, Garak,” Julian said.

Garak looked away, taking his chin with him. “It may surprise you to know that I _did_ come here just for the chocolate. And now I’m quite sated, thank you. By your leave, I’ll be on my way.” He stood.

Julian stood too, letting him past, letting him head for the door. The door swished open—

“Garak.”

Garak stopped.

Julian: “Computer, doors.” The doors closed.

Garak turned his head and looked back over his shoulder. His expression was inscrutable.

Julian went up to him, passed him, and put himself between Garak and the exit. “Now, look here,” he said.

Garak looked, but in a defiant, disdainful sort of way.

“Tell me one thing,” Julian said. “In the conduit—” Garak’s eyelashes fluttered, his mouth tensed; he was nervous – “you rolled over,” Garak looked down, head down, sighing, ashamed, “and you _wanted_ something, Garak, you wanted me to do something. And I don’t know what that thing was. And I’m coming to the conclusion that I might not ever know unless you tell me.”

Garak looked away. “Really, doctor, there are easier ways to pry information out of a target than demanding they tell you.”

“Yes, but that’s what I’m doing anyway.” Julian stepped into Garak’s space, tasting the sweetness on his breath and feeling the heat between their chests. “I’m asking you, Garak. What... do you want... me to do?”

Garak’s eyes snapped to Julian’s, suddenly enlivened. “If I tell you... you’d do it, would you?”

“That... is possible, yes,” Julian said, unsure but committing. “Depends what it is. And what it means to you.”

Garak let his gaze linger on Julian’s mouth. He pondered for a while. Then he nudged Julian aside and said, “Regardless of how little this will cost you, doctor, for me the price is too high,” and pushed the button to open the doors again.

“Garak, wait.”

Garak huffed, but waited, stiff-shouldered in the doorway. He didn’t even flinch as Julian made the doors close once more, an inch from his nose.

Julian put both palms on Garak’s shoulder blades, smoothing out and down. He felt Garak shiver, and took that as a good sign. Inching close, hesitant but gaining confidence, Julian rested the tip of his nose at the nape of Garak’s neck.

“This,” Julian said, “is how you were lying. Your back to me. We... We were front to front but you wanted to roll over. So. This... is where I’m supposed to be, isn’t it?” He breathed hot against Garak’s skin, pushing a sultry, lip-sticky kiss to the back of Garak’s neck, dragging open, smooching closed.

Garak was tense and breathless before him. Julian could feel him heating up.

Fingertips strayed along the rear neckline of Garak’s tunic, fluttering through that sleek black hair, along to his left neck ridge.

“These always looked like they should be firm,” Julian whispered, fingertip exploring a scale, watching the centre of that individual scale flush from silver to a pinky lilac. “But then I saw how your tunic collar sort of pressed into it, and – it’s soft. They’re always... squishy.” The scales were firming under Julian’s touch, and Garak’s breathing had become deep, shuddering from his mouth as he swayed on his feet. “You like being touched there, don’t you? Your ridges.”

Garak breathed a small laugh. “You hardly need me to tell you, my dear doctor.”

Julian responded with a kiss on a hard ridge, sucking, wet mouth and lapping tongue feeling the curved edge of a scale and the pulse of heat within. Garak tasted like a Terran ocean bay; thick summer humidity and salt. “Tell me,” Julian whispered, his own face flushing hot, hips pushing to Garak’s backside. “Tell me what you want.”

Garak suddenly rocked his shoulders, dislodging Julian’s kiss. “Nothing you’d understand.” He reached out, about to open the doors again – but stopped. He curled his fist. He stretched out again... then hesitated...

Julian realised in that moment that they were struggling with the same thing: trying to resist their urges. But while they had recently been on opposite ends of that ideal, they were now on the same page: they both wanted Garak to stay.

So Julian made it easier: he moved around Garak and placed himself again between Garak and the doors, making him step back.

Garak clenched his jaw. “Cardassians would see that as an act of aggression, doctor.”

“Yes,” Julian agreed. “I think anyone would.” He took Garak’s cheek in hand and kissed his lips. “And,” kiss, “that’s the point, isn’t it? You _like_ that.”

Garak moaned, head down, hiding his face against Julian’s chin. “Oh, if any of the Order saw me now...”

“Nobody will,” Julian promised. “It’s just you and me.”

Garak grunted. “I can’t let you do this to me, doctor. I can’t – _be_ —” He gave Julian a helpless, softened look.

Then he hardened, nostrils flaring, and he gripped Julian by the shoulders and _rammed_ him into the wall beside the doors – Julian yelped – but then sucked in a trembling breath as Garak began to kiss him, sucking his neck, a firm hand sliding down his front and then back up as Julian arched closer, Garak untucking his see-through sweater along the way. 

“Auh—” Julian shut his eyes, worked into a searing heat by Garak’s brutal kisses, the hand under his sweater, the other hand pulling his lower back so their crotches connected, so Julian felt a firmness he’d never felt but had imagined more often than he’d ever admit. A smile fluttered across his face and leapt in his heart. “Garak...”

“That’s it, my dear,” Garak oozed, whispers against Julian’s neck. “You surrender to _me_.”

Julian’s brow wrinkled as he held back a laugh. “Beg your pardon— _Surrender?_ ”

“Oh, yes,” Garak groaned, pushing Julian’s pants down with shoving motions, holding one buttock in a hand once they were bared. “Give yourself over to me, dear Julian, and I promise I’ll care for you with _every_ intimate method _known_ to me.”

“Mmmm, that...” Julian bit his lip, eyebrows up as Garak rucked up his sweater and dragged it over his head, leaving his hair wrecked. “That sounds lovely.”

“Doesn’t it.”

...How odd. Julian caught a note of resentment in that statement.

“Doesn’t it?” Julian asked, shivering, rising on one tiptoed foot as Garak took him under his thighs and began to push against him, humping him against the wall through his thick tunic and thicker pants. “Duhs— Hmm. Garak. Oh – oh.” Julian sighed, eyes shut, head rubbing on the wall as Garak pushed him up and down an inch or two. He was so fragile in the Cardassian’s hands, he was bare and thin and almost unclothed and Garak was practically armoured still, blocking him in. Julian squirmed, as his barely-there sweater slumped to hang from one elbow, shoulder bared for more of Garak’s toothy kisses. “GHaaaahhh...”

Garak hummed a laugh. And he _bit_.

Julian flinched at what he thought was pain, but after a couple of breaths, he realised Garak had been too gentle to leave anything other than a dent on his shoulder, which faded under the next kiss.

“Garak,” Julian said, fingers stretching through Garak’s hair, thumbing his ear, watching him look so hungry but so unsatisfied. Julian leaned in, nose turned to bump on Garak’s aural ridge, lips following, and then, a whisper, “Garak, what do you really want?”

Garak buried his face against Julian’s neck, slumping, ceasing to push, ceasing to hold Julian up. They rested together, Julian slowly moving to envelop Garak’s shoulders in a hug.

He saw the couch behind Garak, open and ready. Julian pulled out of the hug, looking at Garak, who seemed too pained by his own desires to speak. So, with a solidified resolve, Julian took control. Both hands on Garak’s chest, he walked towards him, pushing him back. Garak stumbled and resisted but then hit the couch and went down flat, bouncing—

By the time he’d fussed enough to sit up, ready to complain, Julian had kicked off his trousers and underwear and climbed over Garak, naked but for that scrap of a turtleneck sweater (swiftly discarded), and sat in his lap. Garak lay back, stunned.

“Dear me, doctor, you are forceful. I never thought you had it in you.”

“Clothes off,” Julian demanded, holding Garak’s chin and staring at him.

Garak huffed. “Is that how it’s going to be?”

Julian gave him a reassuring kiss, and smiled as he pulled back. “Yes. You’ll do as I say, won’t you, Garak?”

For a moment, Julian worried – what if this wasn’t what Garak wanted? – but then he reminded himself that if Garak didn’t want to be here, he wouldn’t have come; if he didn’t want this, he would excuse himself, and if he wasn’t enjoying this, he wouldn’t be trying to push his arousal up against Julian’s rear end.

“Yes,” Garak finally whispered, an admission that earned him a nose kiss. His hands slid up to hold Julian’s neck, eyes meeting. There was such _emotion_ in Garak’s eyes as he added, “I surrender entirely.”

Julian needed a moment to sag, looking into Garak’s eyes, wondering how they got here, but infinitely glad they had. Garak suddenly looked so much more at ease, finding comfort in having spoken his desires aloud.

They worked together to get Garak’s chest bared, warring with the tunic until it yielded and retreated to the floor; they wrenched up the undershirt, they worked off the trousers, which Julian stood up to pull away and toss aside before pouncing back to his place, accepted by two warm and eager hands on his waist.

Julian tried not to look down just yet, but had already observed that Garak had more scales on his chest, but no ridges and no nipples, and no hair, and something that probably wasn’t a penis but could’ve passed for one, in the right light. It was dark silver, thick, ridge-sided, and curved like a little bridge, shivering with lust. Julian could definitely work with that.

They simply lay together for a bit, Julian on top, his thighs parted around one of Garak’s. His perineum was butted and rubbed by that mating organ of Garak’s, the tip of which left behind something pleasantly slick wherever it dragged. They kept on looking at each other, breathing erratically, smiling, Julian’s fingers stroking Garak’s cheeks, Garak holding Julian’s shoulders and waist. It took some getting used to, just being like this, feeling each other’s soft and hard forms, learning the scent of each other below the clothes. Garak had tasted like sea salt before but now he was desert sand – bitter, yes, and _dry_ , enough to make Julian’s belly swirl, some part of him aching to lie back and burn on the glass shards.

Garak cradled Julian’s cheek, and brought him down for a kiss, a slow one, which became a long one, heads turning, lips smooshing, noses bumping, tongues astray on foreign lips that soon became familiar. They nudged and moaned and started to frot properly, Julian taking the lead, surging _down_ , then _forward_ , then _up_ , finding a kiss at the peak of every thrust.

“Doctor,” Garak moaned, stretching out his neck. “Please.”

Julian didn’t know what he was asking for. “There’s this thing, Garak,” he said, “which is pretty big in Human mating rituals. It’s called ‘communication’. You might want to try it.”

“And give away the prize?” Garak uttered, while blushing and shuddering and being nudged with some force into the couch. “Well, I suppose it can’t hurt to offer a hint.”

Julian grinned, kissing Garak’s cheek a few times as he worked up the gall to speak.

“Ihh, yhuh...” Garak managed, before tipping his head back with a moan. “Bhh... Bite me,” he breathed.

“Bite you?” Julian lifted his head. “Hm, was that the whole hint? Or just the first—”

“Don’t _tease_ me doctor!” Garak cried, thrusting back his head, mouth open. “Please!”

Julian laughed and lowered his head to Garak’s neck, teasing a little more with a hot breath, enjoying the whimper Garak gave. Then... oh, such delight shot through Julian, head to toes, as he sank his right premolar and molar teeth around a firmed neck ridge, and Garak went _silent_ , screaming without a sound, clawed hands pressing dents into Julian’s back, body stiff.

Julian quickly released Garak, wondering if he’d bitten too hard – even though he’d used his side teeth so he didn’t pierce the flexible scales. But thankfully Garak started to pant, tiny vocalisations of pleasure coming out with each breath.

“So _squishy_ ,” Julian murmured, adjusting his rhythm, pushing more slowly now. “Ohh, that was _very_ nice. I liked that.”

“Again,” Garak begged. “Different scales.”

Julian swallowed, then turned his head to set his firmest, biggest teeth against a thick, swollen shoulder ridge, squashing deeply but not chewing. Garak whimpered, and Julian definitely felt a spurt of something hot and wet between his legs. Now even the tenderness of Delavian chocolates was incomparable to the soul-deep sensation that erupted through Julian like a supernova. He’d never known his jaw could interpret _pleasure_ like this.

“Hmmm,” Julian groaned, lifting his head again. “Oh, I need to do the other ridge. The other side of my mouth feels left out.”

Garak laughed but nodded, turning his head to allow access. “AAAughh... Doctor... Julian. Juliaaaanhhh...” He stroked Julian’s neck as he bit. “Oh. Ouhhh.”

Julian followed the bites with kisses, feeling his own saliva rub wet on his nose, seeing how dark the ridges had become where he’d sank his teeth.

“Is this what you wanted?” Julian asked, after the fifth bite, replacing the marks with kisses. “In the conduit, is this what you were asking for?”

Garak hummed, not answering, from which Julian inferred a ‘no’.

Julian gave him one more slow chomp just under his ear, so all the bitemarks matched on both sides. He smiled, kissing now, sucking and smooching Garak’s bared throat.

“I’ll do it, you know,” Julian promised, sitting up a bit. “Whatever it was you wanted. Don’t explain it if you can’t. Just. Just tell me – show me, _guide_ me. Anything. I don’t want you leaving here unsatisfied.”

Garak looked at him, awed. “Even if it changes things forever, doctor?”

Julian laughed. “ _Dear_ tailor... I think it’s far too late for that.” He nodded. “Even if it changes things irrevocably.”

Garak let his hand slide down Julian’s shoulder, slick and warm. They looked at each other, figuring each other out.

“Then...?” Garak said, hand rising to stroke Julian’s hair. “L-hh-let me turn over, if you would be so kind.”

Julian raised himself up, letting Garak roll onto his front, even without knowing what he was meant to do next.

Julian lay down once more over Garak, pushing his own erection to Garak’s plump moon-grey buttocks. Kisses followed, as did slow, seductive slides of hot palms up and down Garak’s back.

“Bite,” Garak said.

Julian knew better than to ask, as he’d get no real answer. But he could add up. He nuzzled the back of Garak’s neck... then bit him there.

No ridges. By all accounts, the back of Garak’s neck was as plain and simple as his supposed tailor’s career. He didn’t shout out in pleasure as Julian kissed, he didn’t squirm. He relaxed, and went limp, and his hand flopped off the couch and hit the floor. Julian’s hand followed it down and held it, kissing the nape of his neck now.

Garak moaned, just quietly.

“What was that?” Julian asked, eyes closed, kissing Garak’s ear. “What happened when I bit you there?”

“I surrendered, my dear,” Garak whispered back, eyes half-open, haunted, but satisfied. “To you. And nobody else.”

Julian processed that. He gazed curiously down at his lover. “Like—”

“Like nothing,” Garak said. “The mating bite is beyond words and incomparable.”

“ _Mating_ b—” Julian grinned, halfway through a shoulder kiss. His eyes roamed the side of Garak’s contented face, enjoying that tiny smile and hooded eyes. “I’m your... mate, now, am I?”

“In the Cardassian sense, yes.”

“Miles’ll have an absolute conniption if I call you my mate. I call _him_ my mate.”

“Excuse me?”

“It’s an antiquated British thing,” Julian explained lightly. “Friendly. Platonic.”

“Ah.”

“But you mean it more like an animal thing, don’t you?”

Garak smiled wryly. “Am I naught but a beast to you?”

“I mean – ih-ih-it’s a sexual, romantic bond,” Julian tried. “Yes?”

“Beyond words, my dear Julian, as I said.”

Julian offered a few more kisses, smiling. “IIIII think I get your issue with this,” he uttered, as he returned to a more regular rutting between Garak’s buttocks. “It’s a whole big emotional quagmire for you, isn’t it? Being the, um... submissive partner. That doesn’t seem very Obsidian Order-y.”

Garak harrumphed. “Humiliate me further, why don’t you, it’s not like I can’t take it.”

“I’m not trying to humiliate you,” Julian said warmly, holding Garak and cuddling up to him as they began to push with more fervor, Garak rising up a little to give Julian more movement. “I’m just putting the pieces together. Anyway, Garak... Elim...?” He chuckled, nuzzling Garak’s back, “It’s not a bad thing in my books. _I_ usually follow my partner’s lead. I’m just – well – glad you felt comfortable enough with me that you let _me_ take the lead, that’s all.”

Garak tutted. “How I’m going to swear you to secrecy is beyond me.”

“Oh,” Julian purred, “don’t you worry about that. I’m an expert at keeping secrets.”

“Other people’s, or your own?”

Julian grinned against him. “I’ll let you suffer over that question. Get back to me once you realise nobody else suspects a thing.”

Garak laughed, then – he began to cry out, head down as he wailed into the couch, clutching hard at Julian’s hand, humping frantically at nothing. Julian was halfway through being impressed that he’d barely touched the other man yet had apparently driven him to climax, when Garak made a noise that could only be described as a _snarl_. It was feral and desperate and Julian feared for his couch, but in a heartbeat the couch was the least of his worries—

The floor hit his back, his hands were snatched up and pinned, and above him was Garak with a wild look in his eyes, ravenous, destructive. Julian started to fight, kicking, heart pounding, only to gasp in realisation and shudder in pleasure as Garak sank down to suck on the side of his neck, hands stroking down Julian’s body, taking his erection and playing with it with confidence but an obvious lack of experience with Human shapes.

Garak grasped and squeezed and curled Julian’s length towards his navel, as if it was supposed to do that. It was such an odd way to pleasure him but Julian could hardly complain when he was left gasping, writhing on the floor, speechless and whispering affirmations, eyes half-closed, a smile dancing on his lips as Garak’s force proved itself to be gentle, if sudden.

“Garak,” Julian breathed, back arching, one leg sneaking to hook over Garak’s lower back. “AAhuhh... Oh, that’s beautiful... Keep doing that, keep— Oh—”

Garak smiled, eyes softening. He was so _interested_. Julian could see he hadn’t expected a surrender just as absolute as the one Garak had given. Julian let himself be toyed with and bitten and roughed up only to be kissed better, and he moaned, a hand grasping the edge of the coffee table so he didn’t bump it.

“You are,” Garak paused to consider Julian, framing his face with a trailing finger, “most exquisite, my dear.”

Julian was dazzled. “I should think so,” he said, feeling a hop in his heart when Garak chuckled. “Nice to know I’m appreciated.”

“Oh, more than you could imagine,” Garak purred, putting a kiss on Julian’s forehead. “More than you would ever understand.”

“Oh-ho! So says you. Maybe—” Julian huffed through a smile, “if you _talked_ to me, I’d understand. You can’t expect me to just _guess_ everything about you.”

Garak considered that. “Yet you’ve guessed everything else without much in the way of error.” Softly, he added, “Perhaps I can find a way to tell you. Or perhaps,” he paused, and put a little kiss on Julian’s cheek, “I already have.”

After one blunt eye-roll, and a fond sigh, Julian relaxed, and cuddled Garak as he played with him a dozen new and unexpected ways. Julian gasped as he felt a tongue tip trace his ear, shivered as he felt fingers under his arms, spasmed and cried out as Garak licked his scalp and then nosed at his eyelashes. Humans seemed so unimaginative, Julian thought, as Garak was busy blowing hot, humid air across his lips, apparently as a specific service, which, frankly, Julian rather liked.

“My dear?” Garak asked, ceasing his application of pleasure just to hold Julian in his arms, looking into his eyes.

“Yes?” Julian adjusted his ruffled head on the carpet.

Garak pondered, then asked, “Perhaps, as a comfort courtesy, would you allow me the honour of applying the mating bite to you as well?”

Julian grinned. “Okay? Part of the ritual, is it?”

Garak gave Julian an eye-roll that said, _You don’t understand the cultural significance of this, and the only way you ever would is if you were raised speaking the Cardassian language from birth, because every single part of the nuance is lost in translation,_ but Garak smiled in any case, and whispered a word of gratitude as Julian rolled over, weight on his knees and elbows, to allow Garak to brace himself against his back. Garak then exhaled hotly, and took the nape of Julian’s neck between his teeth.

“Auh!” Julian was stung with shock, feeling something exciting spike through his system. “Oh.” He rested low, panting, smiling. “Oh.”

Garak wrapped his arms around Julian and hugged him, while one hand strayed low to pleasure him again. “Do you surrender, my dear?”

“Oh, yes,” Julian groaned, head lolling down onto his forearms. “Oh, a hundred times, Elim. Oh, your hand— Shhh.” He grinned and gasped and flashed hothot _hot_ as Garak finally figured out he could slide his hand along Julian’s wet length and the sheath of skin would move to help. Julian trembled in his arms, calling Garak’s name under his breath, then over it, then hurling it out between incomprehensible cries and squeals of delight.

“Guh’hhhaaa—! GArak Elim-Elim-Elim oh my Godohmy—” Julian curled in Garak’s grip and climaxed under him, shouting, tasting the full breadth of the universe at the back of his tongue. He sobbed, slumping off to one side, but could not fall, as Garak supported his weight and lifted him with only minimal help, until Julian lay back on the couch.

Garak lay beside him, on the edge of the seat, guiding Julian’s hand to touch him.

Ridges were just as squishy-firm down here as they were up above. Julian touched Garak the way he’d been touching Julian: cupping, curling, squeezing. Garak stretched his neck and shut his eyes and snuggled against Julian’s chest, making soft, weak noises that Julian could barely believe came from a creature such as him.

Sensing when Garak was nearing climax – there was a frantic, racing pulse within his sex organ, it would’ve been impossible not to notice as it sped to a hum – Julian took Garak by the hair and wrenched him close, teeth bared as he growled into his ear, “Surrender to me, Elim.” A kiss, a bite on the nearest ridge. “To me and nobody else.”

The meaning of those words hit Julian then, with some electric force. But he breathed through the shock of unexpected monogamy, supposing that, after living a life such as his, and finding a man such as Garak, and caring about him the way he did, he wasn’t losing anything by joining with him, only gaining something he’d really always wanted, if not in quite this manner, situation, or physical shape. He’d said as much before they’d begun, hadn’t he? He was gaining someone wonderful. Except now he knew exactly what to do.

“Don’t keep me waiting, Garak,” Julian warned, slipping a thumb through the wide, wet slit in Garak’s almost-purple tip. “Give yourself to me.”

“I am,” Garak breathed, nudging closer, wanting to be held. “Yours. Yours, my dear. Until the greatest stars consume all we _know_ with their light.”

Some part of Julian’s brain decided the exchange sounded vaguely like a set of wedding vows. But that part of his brain was blurry, as Garak climaxed with a huff and a buck into Julian’s hand, and Julian was surprised to see something silken and transparent slosh onto his chest, now gleaming and glittering. It was hotter than Tarkalian tea, but cooled to body temperature in seconds.

Garak sighed and collapsed with exhaustion, and Julian wrapped him close and kissed him a dozen times without hesitation.

The next few minutes passed in that tired, bleary, body-humming way that Julian expected in his post-coital moments. But there was something different about this time, something sparkly and slow, and he wondered if it was a sensation that would linger. As he gazed at Garak, who’d placed himself securely in the nest of Julian’s arms and shut his eyes, Julian smiled.

A day? A week? Julian felt a flutter in his chest as he wondered if this was the sort of feeling that lasted years. Garak was the first person he’d been with who he’d loved for years _before_ they made love, which probably made a difference.

He hoped it would, anyway.

“Hhhmmm... Elim?” Julian plopped a kiss to Garak’s forehead, lips against the dip of the inverted teardrop. “D’you want some chocolate?”

Garak peeked up, and gave Julian a darling look that made his toes curl. “I’d be lying if I said no.”

Julian reached for the coffee table, grunting as he strained over Garak’s form, but finally sighed and fell back with a Delavian chocolate in his fingers. “Halfsies?” he asked.

Garak opened his mouth, but inferred the meaning of the nonsense word from whatever the Universal Translator gave him, and nodded.

Julian took the ball in his teeth, leaned in, and Garak kissed him slowly, deeply, chins bumping and noses pushing, until the chocolate split, and Garak took his own half and lay with his head pillowed on a skinny brown arm, holding Julian’s gaze as they enjoyed the melt and squish and buzz of contentment.

Julian booped Garak’s nose, which made Garak elicit deeply offended noises, which only made Julian chuckle.

“This was splendid,” Julian said at last, caressing Garak’s cheek. “Did you think it was splendid?”

Garak took Julian’s hand and smacked a kiss to it, keeping the hand afterwards. “Beyond magnificent, my dear doctor. Far beyond.”

Julian gave a happy hum, sinking back to rest. “How often do Cardassians do this sort of thing?”

Garak shrugged. “How often do Humans?”

Julian supposed that was a fair but complicated comparison to make. “Eh. Three times a night. Once a lifetime. Some never.”

“Cardassians aren’t so different.”

Julian peered at him, glad to see Garak looking lazily back. “You?”

“As often as you’ll permit.”

Julian smirked. “We’d better figure out a schedule. I am very busy, you know.”

“Ah,” Garak lifted a finger. “I do believe you’re free tomorrow at lunchtime.”

“No...? I have lunch with you.”

“Then you’ll have no complaints if we take our luncheon in your quarters. We do have a lot of chocolates to enjoy, it seems. Would be a shame... not to share.”

Julian ruffled his fingers through Garak’s hair, then smoothed it tidy. “Terrible shame.”

He waited to hear a follow-up remark that would inevitably bait him into starting a quarrel, or a too-harsh word of constructive criticism about his performance tonight... but Julian looked down, and gave a surprised but elated huff when he saw Garak had fallen completely asleep, wrapped up in loving arms. His adorably wide nose wheezed a little.

Julian rolled his eyes and settled back, keeping all his arguments to himself.

There’d be plenty of time to bicker later. And if tonight’s events were of any indication, their next argument would be an especially good one, too.

**{ the end }**

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ☆ [reblog art #1](https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/189240177100/it-wasnt-so-scary-to-be-in-a-small-space-garak)  
> ☆ [reblog art #2](https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/189240236240/i-made-this-art-for-my-new-garashir-fic-bite-hard)  
> ☆ [reblog opening lines](https://almaasi.tumblr.com/post/189240626975/bite-hard-and-bite-sweet)
> 
> This was my second Garashir fic, the previous one being **[Tell Me You Love Me (Or Tell Me a Lie)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/21276857)**. And there’s four more on their way before the end of 2019!! Because I love themmmm and I don’t want to stoooopppp...
> 
> Anyway, [**subscribe here** ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/almaasi) if you wanna get weekly notifications for the new Garashir fics, which would be interspersed with Dean/Cas and Crowley/Aziraphale fics too. I’m planning to hit a word count of 3,000,000 before the end of the year!! Yeehaw~
> 
> Elmie x
> 
> (P.S. Thank you for reading! I love you, space friend.)


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